Demanding All Of You Page 21

  When we got to school, the kids were already outside. I immediately spotted Oliver playing with a few kids.

  “Oliver,” I called.

  He looked up, saw me, then Alex and sprinted toward us. “Hi, Alex!” he greeted her.

  “Hi,” she said, accepting his warm hug.

  “Hi, Dad,” he greeted with far less enthusiasm.

  “Hey. Ready to go home?”

  “What’s Alex doing here?” he asked.

  I smiled. “She has an invitation for us.”

  “An invitation,” he said, sounding out the word.

  “There’s a carnival in town,” she answered. “It’s kind of a big deal around here.”

  “A carnival!” he repeated, his eyes going big. “Will there be rides?”

  She slowly nodded. “A few.”

  “I want to go! Can we go, Dad?”

  I smiled, nodding. “We are definitely going. I’m looking forward to hanging out with you two.”

  He clapped his hands. “Let’s go!”

  “We need to go home first,” I told him.

  He groaned. “But I’m ready now,” he whined.

  “Say goodbye to your friends and let’s get going.”

  He waved goodbye before racing to the car. When we got back to the house, Alex told us to go on in and she would be right there. Oliver went to his room to change while I found him a snack from the fridge. Alex came into the house carrying a bag. I raised one eyebrow, quietly asking her what she had. She only grinned in return.

  Oliver came bouncing into the living room. “I’m ready!”

  “Actually, you’re not quite ready,” Alex said.

  Oliver looked down at his clothes. “I’m ready,” he stated again.

  She grinned and held up the bag. “You need these.”

  “What is it?” he asked, taking the bag from her.

  “Look and see,” she answered.

  I walked into the living room, intrigued to see what it was she had picked up. He pulled out a shoebox and looked at me with confusion. “Open it,” I encouraged, already reading the box and discovering what it was.

  He did as I said and pulled out one of the little cowboy boots. “Boots!” he shouted. “Real cowboy boots! Are these for me?”

  “They sure are. You’re going to need those for the carnival. You’ll blend right in.”

  He flopped down on the floor and kicked off his tennis shoes. “My friend has boots. He says his daddy wears boots all the time. I’m going to be a cowboy now.”

  I laughed. “You think so, huh?”

  He got to his feet after tugging on the boots and gave both feet a good stomping. “They fit!” he declared with a bright smile.

  “What do you say?” I prompted him.

  “Thank you!” He ran toward her, launching his little body at hers. I watched him hug her. It made me happy to see him so happy. She was good to him and for him. I hoped I didn’t screw things up with her.

  “Yes, thank you,” I told her. “That was very nice. I’m sure those will come in handy.”

  She shrugged. “You better watch out. I just might put you in boots.”

  I laughed. “I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.”

  “We’ll see,” she said with a wink.

  There was a lot I wanted to say, but with little ears nearby, I kept it to myself. If she was into cowboy boots, I would certainly oblige. Hell, I’d wear a big hat and a giant buckle if that was what made her hot. “Should we go?” I asked, cutting off where those thoughts were going.

  “I’m ready!” Oliver said.

  “Should we all go together?” I asked, hoping we could ride together. That meant we’d have to come back to my place. That would be a very good excuse to invite her inside.

  And then, maybe she’d be so tired from the busy night at the carnival she’d have to stay the night.

  Chapter 34

  Alex

  I hopped in his car after leaving my truck at my house. Damion would drop me off at home after we were finished at the fair. I liked the no pressure approach. If I went back to his place, things could get sticky—literally. I didn’t think either of us was quite ready to explain what we were doing to Oliver. I didn’t want to commit to anything and I had a feeling he wasn’t quite ready for that kind of commitment either.

  It was best if we took things slow and easy. I liked the casual fun we were having and didn’t want to try and make things out to be more than they were. Slow. That was the key. It was like playing a game of chess with myself. I didn’t want to cut and run again.

  “You can park back here,” I told Damion.

  “Holy shit,” he breathed. “This many people live around here?”

  I laughed. “When you live in this area with limited things to do, this carnival is a big draw. Everyone from the county shows up. You should be here when the fair comes to town. That is a really wild time.”

  “I believe you. I do remember the county fair.”

  “Did you ever show any animals? Participate in any of the events?”

  He shook his head. “I never had the time. When I was little, like Oliver’s age, I did win a mutton busting competition. Once. Just once. That was not for me. I think I knew from a very young age I was not meant to be in the rodeo.”

  I burst into laughter. “I cannot imagine you trying to ride a bucking bronco.”

  “Me either.”

  “What’s mutton busting?” Oliver asked from the backseat.

  “I bet he’d love to give it a try,” I said in a low voice.

  Damion shrugged his shoulder. “Do they have it tonight?”

  “Of course. You know the people around here. They love any reason to ride an animal and make bets.”

  “Mutton busting is when little kids ride sheep,” he answered Oliver’s question. “They have to try and hold on for six seconds.”

  “I want to do it!” he shouted.

  “Let’s see what they have going on first,” Damion answered.

  He found a spot to park and we all climbed out. I couldn’t explain why, but I reached for Oliver’s hand. He didn’t pull back or seem bothered by my gesture. He held my hand as we walked toward the carnival sprawled out in a field. Damion walked on Oliver’s other side, occasionally casting a glance my way and smiling.

  I held Oliver’s hand while Damion paid our entrance fee. We walked to another booth and Damion once again whipped out his wallet to buy a horde of tickets.

  “Do you want to try some rides first, or would you like to play some games?” Damion asked Oliver.

  Oliver looked up at me. “What do you want to do?” he asked.

  He made me feel like the most important lady in the state. “I would love to do anything you like. How about a game first?”

  He nodded. “A game, Dad.”

  Damion pointed us in the right direction. The lights and sounds grew brighter and louder as we made our way toward the row of ramshackle booths that had been put together in a hurry. Carnies were shouting out to passersby, demanding they play their games.

  “How about that one?” I suggested, nodding my head at a game where a player had to throw darts at balloons.

  “I want to play!” Oliver said with excitement.

  I saw the look on Damion’s face and knew exactly what he was thinking—darts. Darts were sharp. “He’ll be okay. I’ll make sure he doesn’t take an eye out.”

  “You have to be very careful,” Damion said to Oliver. “The pointy end goes toward the balloon.”

  Oliver practically rolled his eyes. “I know, Dad.”

  Damion paid for a round of darts. I helped Oliver aim and throw the first one before stepping back and letting him do it on his own. Poor Damion looked like he was chewing on glass as he watched his son stumble once.

  “He’s doing great,” I said.

  He nodded, flinching when Oliver’s dart popped a balloon. “I think that duck fishing game looks like a much better choice.”

 
I laughed, shaking my head and turning my attention back to Oliver. “Look, you get to pick a prize!” I told him.

  Oliver picked out what had to be the ugliest stuffed red whale, holding on to it like it was the Holy Grail. “I won, Dad! I won!”

  Damion smiled. “You did. Good job. Let’s try this game over here.”

  We walked to the fishing game and watched as Oliver caught three ducks. He was given the chance to choose yet another prize. Oliver was walking around the place proud as a peacock, carrying the evidence of his game skills.

  “How about a corndog?” I asked both of them.

  Oliver’s eyes went big. “They have corndogs here?”

  Damion laughed. “The best corndogs are sold at the fair.”

  We made our way to the row of food booths. Damion smiled and waved at people he knew from way back when. We ordered a variety of food samplings, including the corndogs, before finding a seat at the end of one of the picnic tables.

  “This is so much nicer when it isn’t scorching hot,” I commented.

  Damion chuckled. “The heat was part of the fun, if I remember correctly. We’d all come out, get hot, and then head for the swimming hole for some late night cooling off.”

  “What’s a swimming hole?” Oliver asked.

  I looked at Damion. “You’ve never told him much about your life here, did you?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “It didn’t exactly come up a lot. Besides, he wouldn’t have understood it. He didn’t know about this life. He only knew New York.”

  That made me kind of sad for some reason. It was as if Damion had left Montana behind and never looked back. I wondered if he really liked being home or if he was forcing himself to stay out of obligation. “And now?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “And now I’m filling him in on bits and pieces of my childhood.”

  I nodded, but I suddenly got the feeling there was something else going on. Like he was reserving judgment for later. Like he wasn’t really buying into the idea of Oliver growing up in Montana and experiencing those same things. Maybe I was reading too much into it. I shook off the feelings, chalking it up to my own problems and worries he was going to leave.

  “How was school today?” I asked Oliver, steering the conversation back to the present.

  Oliver was chowing down on his corndog, his legs swinging as we sat at the table. “Good. I got to pick a new book to read from the big kids’ library.”

  “Wow!” I said, thoroughly impressed. “That’s awesome.”

  “Miss June says I’m too advanced for the books in her room.”

  I was smiling and nodding. “Yes, I’m sure you are advanced.”

  We finished our meal of horribly greasy food that tasted delicious before we slowly walked around the carnival. An announcement came over the loudspeaker, announcing the mutton busting competition would start soon.

  “Can I do it?” Oliver asked, jumping up and down.

  Damion looked hesitant as we watched the other kids running around. “Maybe we should observe this round, and when the fair comes to town, you can do it then.”

  I frowned at him. “Damion,” I said his name in a slightly scolding tone. The guy was so protective of his son, I feared I would one day show up and find Oliver in a plastic bubble.

  He scowled at me. “Look at those kids running around. Someone might get hurt.”

  I nodded. “Someone might fall off or someone might trip. Didn’t you say you did this?”

  Our conversation was between us. Oliver had his face glued to the arena where the sheep were milling about. I could see how badly Oliver wanted to try it. He was one of the bigger kids and I had every confidence he would do just fine—if Damion would let him try.

  “He didn’t grow up tripping and falling and getting a face full of dirt,” he said.

  “No, but it’s never too late to learn what dirt tastes like,” I teased.

  He sighed. “You are going to make me do this, aren’t you?”

  I put my hand on his arm. “I would never make you do anything. I’m only encouraging you to let him try. If he falls, it’s his choice whether he gets back on. Falling is learning. He’ll know what to do next time. I bet you fell a lot growing up.”

  He sighed, turning to look at me. “Are you sure you’re not some therapist working in disguise?”

  I grinned. “I don’t think so, but I guess if this farming thing doesn’t turn out, I have something to fall back on.”

  His gaze dropped to my lips. I knew he was thinking about kissing me. I wanted to kiss him too. We didn’t. We couldn’t. One kiss would set off a flurry of rumors that I wasn’t ready to deal with. The people milling about around us pretended they didn’t see us, but I knew differently. I knew they were watching. They were already whispering about me and the new guy in town. Some would remember him and really have something to gossip about.

  “All right, buddy, you ready to do this?” Damion asked.

  Oliver jumped up and down. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  Ten minutes later, Oliver was lined up to do a little mutton busting. I felt like a proud mama, watching him stand and wait his turn. He had on a little helmet, his number pinned to the back of his shirt, and looking like a real country kid. Damion stood beside me, looking nervous as hell.

  I very carefully reached out and put my hand in his and gave a good squeeze. “He’s going to do great,” I whispered. “I can see that fighting spirit in him, just like his daddy.”

  When they called out Oliver’s number, Damion and I both gripped the fence railing. My heart raced as I watched on. I silently prayed the kid would do well and I prayed he didn’t get hurt. Damion would never forgive me if his precious child was injured in some way. I would never forgive myself.

  “Thatta a boy!” Damion shouted as we both hooted and hollered, cheering Oliver on.

  “He did it!” I screamed when Oliver managed to hold on to the sheep for the full six seconds. “Oh my god, he did it!”

  “That’s my boy!” Damion shouted, whistling and clapping all at the same time.

  Oliver walked out of the ring, a grin on his face so big it looked like his face would split in two. Damion threw his arms around me, hugging me tight and spinning me around. In that moment, I knew I was in serious trouble. The Whittle boys were dangerous. I was falling head over heels for both of them.

  Oliver ran toward us. “Did you see?” he asked, still smiling.

  “We saw!” I shouted, picking him up and hugging him tight. “You did such a great job. You’re a natural.”

  I turned to see Damion looking at me holding Oliver, a strange look on his face. I quickly put Oliver on his feet before Damion scooped him up. I watched father and son celebrate, my heart filling with pride and something else. Something I couldn’t quite acknowledge. It was dangerous to think of myself seriously falling for Damion.

  He wasn’t even committed to staying at the farm. I sensed he still had one foot out the door. I didn’t want to feel like I was competing with New York. I didn’t think I had a chance in hell of winning that war.

  Chapter 35

  Damion

  I woke up a little later than usual. For a brief moment, I had forgotten where I was. I had been having a very good dream about Alex. My dick was still hard. I reached between my legs, adjusting things and attempting to ease the pressure. I went to sleep with her on my mind and woke up every morning hard and thinking about her. Damn if I wasn’t addicted to her sweet body.

  I got up and slipped on some jeans and my work boots before pulling on a hoodie and heading out to do my morning chores. It was becoming easier, and I had fallen into a routine, but those early mornings could still be a real bitch. I wasn’t sure I was fully committed to rising with the sun every morning. What would it be like if I had a warm body—not just any body, but Alex’s body—in my bed? I couldn’t imagine myself getting up and walking outside in the chill of the morning to feed horses.

  Oliver was talking about getting animals, which w
ould only increase the time it took to go through the morning routine. Was I really ready for that? Maybe I could hire a fulltime farmhand to do the morning chores. I knew it was the wimpy way out, but damn if five o’clock in the morning wasn’t early.

  I went about my chores, my mind continually drifting to Alex. I thought about her holding Oliver last night. It had looked so right. It had twisted my gut to see him hugging her and her holding him like a proud mother would hold her child. Thinking about it gave me chills. It was an image I wasn’t sure I would ever see in my life, Oliver being held by a woman he cared about a great deal.

  By the time I made it back into the house, I was starving. Oliver had just gotten out of bed and was lounging on the couch with a new book.

  “Hungry?” I asked him.

  “Yes,” he answered without looking away from the book. I watched his little mouth move and knew he was quietly sounding out words.

  “Why don’t we go out for breakfast today?” I suggested.

  He put his book down. “Can I have pancakes with whip cream?”

  I smiled. “Yes, you can. Give me fifteen minutes to change. You need to get dressed as well.”

  “Okay,” he said, tossing his book to the side and rushing to his room.

  “Brush your teeth,” I called out at the same time the door to his bedroom slammed shut.

  I chuckled to myself, walking into my own room. The door thing was new. He was suddenly modest. It was hard to think of him growing into a young man, but there he was, doing exactly that. Fifteen minutes later, we were both changed and ready to go.

  We got to the only diner in town, took our seats, and quickly ordered the standard breakfast fare. Oliver made sure he got the desired whipped cream. I sipped coffee, my eyes drifting around the room at some familiar faces. I remembered having breakfast at the place with my grandpa. It had been part of our Sunday morning routine. We didn’t go to church and weren’t religious, but Sundays were a day he liked to take it easy. His easy was most people’s average workday.