Keeping Her Page 8

  "Pearce was up with me at six," my mom says.

  "So you're an early riser, huh?" My dad pours himself some coffee.

  "I'm usually at work by six," Pearce says. "So getting up at six is like sleeping in."

  "He works too much," I tell my dad.

  "Rachel, would you help me with breakfast?" my mom asks.

  "Sure." I get up, taking my coffee with me.

  "Do you want to learn how to get a fire going, Pearce?" my dad asks. "We'll use the logs you cut yesterday."

  Pearce agrees to it and the two of them go outside to get the logs.

  I'm surprised how well Pearce fits into my family. I was worried he wouldn't, but he does, which makes me really happy. I'm also happy that my parents seem to love him.

  In fact, as soon as my dad takes Pearce outside, my mom goes on and on about how great Pearce is. I guess his early morning chat with her really won her over.

  After everyone has breakfast, I help my mom prepare Thanksgiving dinner, getting the side dishes ready and baking the pies while Pearce and my dad hang out in the living room, talking and watching TV.

  We have dinner at two. The food is amazing as always. I consider myself a pretty good cook, but my mom is even better. Pearce kept complimenting her on the meal, which made her love him even more.

  That night, after my parents go to sleep, I wait in my bedroom for Pearce. After a few minutes, he comes in and gets under the covers with me.

  "I feel like I'm 15, sneaking in your room like this."

  I laugh. "Sorry. My parents are just old-fashioned about this type of stuff."

  "So they don't know we're living together?"

  "They do, but it's different when I'm under their roof."

  His lips find mine in the dark room and I feel his hand on my backside, pulling me closer. "I'm finding it incredibly difficult not having you next to me all night."

  "It's just a few more nights."

  "It's three more nights. That's too long."

  I sigh. "I know."

  He kisses me, his hand slipping under the hem of my t-shirt. I sit up enough for him to take it off. He takes his off too, then his mouth moves down to my breast as his strong hands caress my skin. I breathe out, trying to suppress the sounds I would normally make in response to what he's doing to me. He tugs at my pajama pants and I lift my hips so he can take them off. He skims his hand up my thigh, stopping between my legs at the place that's now aching to be touched.

  I moan, unable to stop myself.

  I feel his lips over mine. "Shhh. We have to be quiet."

  His hand continues, bringing me close.

  "I can't be quiet," I say, gripping the sheet.

  He's laughing at me. "Yes, you can."

  He brings me to the edge, then moves off me just long enough to strip the rest of himself. I feel his body cover mine as he enters me, slowly. "God, you feel good."

  I reach around his hips and pull him into me.

  "Shit," he breathes out. "I'm going to make noise if you keep doing that."

  I wrap my legs around him, pushing him even deeper. "You mean that?"

  "You're killing me." He gets his hips moving. "It's payback time."

  He's not kidding. He thrusts harder as his hand goes between us, back to the spot he warmed up. Moments later I'm coming undone, gripping the sheet again, trying to be quiet, but finding it nearly impossible as the sensations overtake me.

  As my body relaxes, Pearce finishes up, then remains over me, kissing my shoulder.

  "I don't think we can do that again," I say, out of breath. "It's too hard to be quiet."

  "We're doing it again. This was practice for tomorrow night. I think you've got the hang of it now. You barely made a sound."

  "I didn't make any sounds. I was quiet the whole time."

  He lifts up and smiles at me. "You were making noise towards the end there, but I'm sure they didn't hear."

  "I was?" I smile back at him. "I guess I can't control what you do to me."

  He kisses me. "I should go."

  "Can you stay until I fall asleep, like last night?"

  "I'd stay all night if you let me."

  "I know you would. And I would love that, but we can't."

  He rolls onto his back. "Are you sure you don't want to tell your parents we're married?"

  "Yes. I'm sure."

  I fall asleep in his arms, and once again, when I wake up, he's gone.

  The next day, we all load into the car and my parents give Pearce a tour of the town. It was dark when we got off the plane, so he didn't get to see anything. There isn't much to see. Just a small downtown with some restaurants and shops. We have lunch at a diner, then go back to the house.

  Pearce and my dad watch football while my mom and I talk about the wedding. I told her it was going to be huge and that I'd be hiring wedding coordinators to do most of the planning, but that didn't stop her from wanting to give me all her ideas. So I jotted them down and added my own. Even if we don't end up doing them, it was fun to talk about.

  Since my mom didn't have much of a wedding herself, she's excited for mine. As for me, I'm not sure how I feel about the wedding. Now that I know other people are going to be taking it over, part of me wishes we could just skip it, but I know we can't. We have to put on a show and host a big party for all these people I have yet to meet.

  At eight, I steal Pearce away from my dad so I can take him to the country bar. I'm already laughing imagining Pearce there. I'm sure he won't like it, but it's the place to be on Friday nights and it'll give him a real feel for the town.

  I borrowed my dad's pickup because you have to show up with a pickup. Everyone does. I'm wearing tight jeans and a pink and white plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. My mom loaned me her cowboy boots, which she never wears.

  Pearce has on jeans and a black button-up shirt. I've taken him shopping several times the past few months, slowly filling his wardrobe with more casual clothes.

  He looks really hot in that black shirt. This is the first time he's worn it, but now that I see how good it looks on him, he's going to have to wear it a lot more. He didn't shave, so he's got a thick five o'clock shadow. And he's wearing the cologne that I love.

  "You look really hot," I tell him as I'm driving into town.

  He smiles. "So do you. You're like my hot little cowgirl."

  "We might just have to do it in the back of the pickup before we go inside. I bet that would be another first for you."

  He looks up, like he's thinking. "No, I've done it in a pickup. At least twice."

  "What?" We're at a stoplight and I look at him. "When did this happen?"

  He laughs. "It didn't. I was kidding. You should've seen the look on your face. It was a mix of shock and anger, with a hint of jealousy."

  "I wasn't angry. And why would I be jealous?"

  "Because you thought I'd already done it and you wanted to be my first." He reaches over and puts his hand on my leg. "Just admit it. You wanted to be my first fuck in a truck."

  I burst out laughing. "Oh my God. I can't believe you just said that! Those words are the absolute last words I would ever think would come out of Pearce Kensington's mouth."

  "Well, I have a few beers in me, thanks to your father."

  "Still, that's just too funny. And yes, I admit I wanted to be your first…fuck in a truck. But since it's only forty degrees, we'll have to do it some other time."

  I park the car, still laughing. We get out and Pearce meets me on the sidewalk. The bar is at the end of Main Street, but it's already crowded so we had to park down a ways. As we're walking past the storefronts, I stop in front of the drugstore.

  "You want to see where I spent all my allowance as a kid?"

  He looks at the sign. "A drugstore?"

  "They sell all kinds of stuff." I drag him inside and over to the soda fountain. It hasn't changed since I was a kid. There's a long counter lined with a row of stools that have red cushioned seats that swivel. "I'd either get
ice cream or candy." I point to the jars that hold an assortment of candy.

  He smiles. "So that's why you like ice cream so much."

  "Probably, although they don't add the crushed cookies and you have to have crushed cookies with ice cream. So I usually just got candy."

  Pearce steps back suddenly and I look down and see a little boy attached to his legs. He must have run right into Pearce and now he's holding on and won't let go, his big brown eyes gazing up at Pearce like he wants him to pick him up.

  Pearce is staring at the little boy, unsure what to do. I don't think he's ever been around kids.

  I laugh. "I think you made a new friend."

  "My new friend won't let go of my leg."

  I lean down to the boy. He looks familiar. "Where's your mommy?"

  "Right here." I hear a voice behind me. "Sorry about that."

  I turn around. "Lisa!" I give her a hug, but only a partial one because she's holding an infant.

  "Rachel, I didn't know you were in town."

  "Yeah, I'm back for Thanksgiving. Is this the new baby?" I fold back his blanket a little to see his face.

  "That's him. Three weeks old. His name is Sam. And you've already met Nathan." She looks at him. "Nathan, let go of that man."

  I laugh because Pearce is frozen in place, afraid to move with Nathan still attached to his leg.

  "I'll get him." I crouch down so I'm level with him. "Hi, Nathan. Last time I saw you, you weren't even walking, and now look how big you are. I almost didn't recognize you. How old are you?"

  He releases his hold on Pearce and holds up two fingers.

  "You're two?"

  He nods.

  I hold my arms out. "Can I have a hug?"

  He gives me one and I hug him back. He's so cute, dressed in tiny jeans and a big red jacket.

  "She was always great with kids," I hear Lisa tell Pearce.

  Nathan doesn't let me go so I pick him up. "He's adorable, Lisa."

  "Not always," she says, laughing. "But at the moment he is." She motions to Pearce. "Do you two know each other? Or were you just saving an innocent stranger from my son?"

  I smile. "I know him. This is Pearce. We're engaged."

  "That's great! Congratulations! When's the wedding?"

  "It's in March."

  Pearce extends his hand to Lisa. "It's nice to meet you."

  "You too. And again, I'm sorry about Nathan."

  "It's fine. He has quite a grip. Maybe he'll play ball someday."

  "Yeah, maybe." She smiles at me. "Rachel, I have to get these two to bed, but it was good seeing you."

  "Yeah, we'll have to get together next time I'm in town." I set Nathan down. "Bye, Nathan."

  He waves at me as they walk away, and then he waves at Pearce.

  "He's so cute." I take Pearce's hand. His body is still stiff. "You okay? You seemed a little freaked out by Nathan."

  "I'm just not used to children."

  As we're leaving the drugstore, I think about Pearce's comment. I told him I couldn't have kids, but what if I could? Would he even want them? It's another thing we need to discuss. Because I want them more than anything. Even if I could just have one, I'd be happy.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  7

  PEARCE

  Watching Rachel with that little boy reminded me how much she wants to be a mother someday. If she can't have a child of her own, she'll want to adopt, and I can't adopt. Any child I have has to be mine. Part of the Kensington bloodline. It's another rule of the organization. Membership is passed down through sons¸ but those sons can't be adopted. The same is true for daughters, who can't be members but are paired with members for an arranged marriage. An adopted child would be seen as an outsider, so adoption is not an option.

  "Are you coming?" Rachel asks, holding open the door to the bar.

  "Yes. Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

  We walk inside and country music surrounds us, drowning out the sounds of conversations being had by the clusters of people scattered throughout the open room. There are small round tables with stools and a few booths along the wall, but all of the seats are taken so I'm not sure where we're going to sit. The place is filled to capacity with women in short skirts and cowboy boots, and men wearing cowboy hats. I didn't know Indiana was so country, but maybe they're only dressed this way because it's a country bar.

  I feel out of place. The only bars I've ever gone to are very high-end, exclusive bars, some of which are invitation only. And they all have very strict dress codes.

  Rachel links her arm with mine. "Should we get a drink, or do you want to dance first?"

  Dance? I glance over and see a small dance floor in the far back corner of the room. People are doing some kind of dance where they all do the same movements in a line.

  The only dancing I've ever done is ballroom dancing, mainly the waltz, and I've only done that when I've been forced to do so. I don't like dancing. And I definitely don't want to do whatever it is those people are doing in that line. They seem to be having a good time, but that's probably because they're drunk.

  "I don't dance." I say it loudly so Rachel can hear.

  "Come on. It's fun. I'll show you." I let her drag me over there, but I have no intention of partaking in this.

  "Rachel, I really don't feel like dancing," I say when she stops next to the dance floor. "You go ahead."

  "Rachel!" A blond woman around Rachel's age runs up to her. "I haven't seen you in forever."

  "Hey, Cassie." She hugs her. "You look great."

  "Come dance with me." Cassie grabs her hand and pulls her onto the dance floor.

  Rachel looks back at me, mouthing 'sorry.' I smile and nod at her to go ahead.

  Cassie seems a little tipsy. She's stumbling as she walks, but maybe it's because of her shoes. She has on short black boots that are at least three inches high. She's wearing a red plaid flannel shirt that she's turned into a dress by adding a belt. The shirt hits about mid-thigh so it makes for a very short dress and she's unbuttoned it enough to show off a lot of cleavage.

  I watch as Rachel finds a place in the line and repeats the steps that everyone else is doing. How does she know how to do this? I don't think she listens to much country music, so how did she learn to dance like this?

  A new song begins and some other people recognize her and encourage her to stay on the dance floor. She does, but checks to make sure I'm still there. I motion her to continue.

  I like standing here watching her. It's another side of my wife I haven't seen before. She seems to have a lot of friends here and they all seem to love her. Why wouldn't they? She's hard not to love.

  I watch as she spins around and claps and sings along to whatever song they're playing. She has a huge smile on her face and it causes me to smile as well.

  This is so completely different than anything Rachel will ever experience with me. I hope she'll be okay with that. I hope she'll adapt and won't be wishing she were going to places like this, instead of stuffy charity balls where she'll be surrounded by people twice our age and will have to wear a gown and dance to classical music.

  Sometimes I worry Rachel won't be happy in my world. And I fear that if she's not, she won't tell me. I want her to be happy and I need to do everything I can to make sure that she is. Because seeing her happy, like she is right now, is the best feeling in the world.

  I know she doesn't want to come back and live here in Indiana, but after having spent a few days here, I'm finding that it's not that bad of a place. It's peaceful and quiet and the people are real, not like the fake people I'm used to. Just looking around this room right now and seeing all the faces, I can tell how people are feeling. Happy. Tired. Bored. Excited. It all shows on their faces. There's not a fake smile to be seen.

  Rachel's parents are the same way. They're real. Genuine. And extremely kind, welcoming me into their family with open arms. It's only been a few days, but in just that short time, I've grown to love Rachel's parents.


  I've really enjoyed spending time with her father. Watching football. Talking with him while he works outside. Having him teach me things. He already acts as though I'm his son and he treats me much better than my own father does.

  Henry is a good man. Hard-working. Dedicated to his family. Involved in his community. Willing to help anyone who needs it. He's the type of man I wish I could be. But I never will. No matter how many good things I do, it will never be enough to outweigh the bad things I've done, and will do in the future.

  Rachel's mother is also a good person. She's caring and generous and very smart. She handles the business aspects of the farm, and when we were talking the other morning, she asked for my advice on investments. She has some money stashed away that she'd like to invest, and when I told her about my knowledge in finance, we started talking stocks and bonds. She already knows a lot, but I gave her some additional advice and told her I'd connect her with some investment advisors I work with. They'd normally only deal with people who have at least a million to invest, but if I asked them to, they'd make an exception for Rachel's parents.

  Since being here, I've noticed how overprotective Beth is of Rachel, but it's only because she loves her so much. And I'm already seeing Beth start to change now that she's met me and knows I'll take good care of her daughter. I promised her and her husband I would, but doing so means getting the organization to back down and leave Rachel alone. I'm dreading having to face them on Sunday. I have no idea what they're going to tell me.

  "Who's Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?" A woman with long red hair wearing a black cowboy hat and a skimpy black dress appears beside me. "I haven't seen you here before." She slides her hand over my chest.

  "I'm with someone." I back away, but there isn't anywhere to go. People are jammed up against me.

  "Who are you with?" She looks up at me, standing so close I can smell her breath. It smells like beer and cinnamon-flavored mints, not a good combination.

  "I'm with her." I point to Rachel on the dance floor, but it's hard to see her unless you're as tall as me.

  The woman grabs hold of my shirt, holding on as she gets on her tip toes trying to see. "What's her name?"

  This woman is very annoying and very persistent. I want to remove her hand from my shirt, but if I do, she'll likely fall down. She's wearing high heels and isn't stable standing on her toes like that.