“Isn’t it? Unless you’re here to tell me you were wrong and you think we can make things work, just stop.” She paused, but when he said nothing she shrugged and continued on. “All right then. Apology accepted. You didn’t know. I need to go back over to Audra, we’re headed out in a few. It was good to see you.”
He’d been naked in her bed. Hell, he’d been in her. He’d licked her in places she’d never been licked before – PJ tried not to smile as she remembered the way he’d licked over her asshole and she’d squeaked and jumped off the mattress.
He’d opened to her and been intimate with her and then told her what she felt and was capable of understanding. He needed to understand why that was so dumb. He needed to accept that he was a total douchenozzle and do some groveling.
And she needed to continue to run into him from time to time so he always had her in his thoughts.
One day they’d laugh at this story. He’d be all, Oh yeah, I was a dick but thank goodness I finally wised up. And she’d smile and nod.
Right then, though, she leaned in close to him when she had an excuse so he got a whiff of her and her hair slid against his skin. PJ kissed his cheek and barely resisted rubbing her face across his beard.
Instead she slowly eased back. “See you around.”
She knew he watched her walk away. Probably because his gaze seemed to burn into her skin. Also because several other men in the room watched too. Good. He needed to see that as well.
“Hand me that bowl there, the one with the potatoes.” Pat Barrons pointed at the bowl her son then moved within her reach.
“If you’re not going to tell me what’s making you so grumpy, at least stir the beans.”
He did, his sister wisely avoiding his eye. They’d bust out laughing and their mother wouldn’t be pleased.
“I’m not any more grumpy than usual, you know.”
“Don’t stand in my kitchen and lie to me, boy.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s a woman. Dice those onions. I need two.” She’d set herself up at the counter he and Duke had lowered for her a few years prior. His mom would gather all her supplies and then cook from one central place near the stove.
Not coincidentally, it gave her the perfect perch to keep an eye on – and lord over – everyone in the living room and dining room.
She made him dice onions because he wasn’t just telling her. He’d break eventually; he always did. His baby sister, Courtney, smirked but kept her attention on pouring the cornbread batter into the cast-iron skillet and popping it into the oven to bake.
Pat Barrons had gotten pregnant with Asa when she was just fifteen. His dad had been a few years older but already a seasoned criminal and piece of shit by the time Pat finally called the police on him after he’d hit her.
His paternal grandparents had then swooped in and taken Asa. Pat had spent the next years fighting with Asa’s grandparents and his father – when he was out of prison anyway. She’d been able to win visitation but had to stay on top of them to get it. Sometimes they’d control her behavior with the promise of access to Asa. Finally, when he was seven years old, she’d won full custody. After that, they’d picked up and moved from Dallas to Houston.
Asa hated his father’s family for humiliating Pat that way. She’d been powerless and they’d abused that because they could. They pretended it was charity when it was the worst sort of vanity.
She’d worked at least two jobs the whole time Asa grew up. It was the price for keeping her independence, and he got that. Understood how important it was that she not be beholden to anyone again.
They didn’t have much. It didn’t get any better when she had his younger sister, Lettie, and then Courtney a few years after that. There’d been a man for a few years, Lettie and Courtney’s dad, but he’d up and gone soon enough.
Right around that time Asa sort of went off the rails. His life was a dead end. He’d wind up in jail just like his dad. He wasn’t going to head off to college. He had no future and he acted like it for long enough that his mother had begged him to join the army to do something with his life.
Asa’s mother had never asked him for anything. So when she’d cried, saying she was worried he’d end up dead or an addict, when she’d actually begged him, he’d gone down and enlisted.
His mother didn’t have a lot of education herself, but she was determined her children would grow up into adults worth knowing.
Needless to say, Pat Barrons could be relentless when she wanted to know something and no one was talking.
“You were going to tell us about the woman,” she prodded.
“There’s no woman.”
His mother just stared at him for long moments before turning the chicken she was cooking.
“Okay, so there was. Is. Whatever. It’s not a thing. I can’t even say it’s over because it never got started. Happy?”
“I’m never happy when you think you can give me that attitude.” She gave him a prim look and Courtney snickered.
“I’m sorry.” And he was.
“I know, baby. So tell me about this woman. Did she dump you?”
“No one dumped me. I told you, it’s nothing. A woman who does our custom paint work. I like her, but she’s too young, and we work together. It’s a recipe for disaster. So we’ll be friends.”
Courtney turned and gave him a long, measuring look. “Did you tell her this or did she tell you this?”
He’d been naked in her bed. Hell, he’d been in her. He’d licked her in places she’d never been licked before – PJ tried not to smile as she remembered the way he’d licked over her asshole and she’d squeaked and jumped off the mattress.
He’d opened to her and been intimate with her and then told her what she felt and was capable of understanding. He needed to understand why that was so dumb. He needed to accept that he was a total douchenozzle and do some groveling.
And she needed to continue to run into him from time to time so he always had her in his thoughts.
One day they’d laugh at this story. He’d be all, Oh yeah, I was a dick but thank goodness I finally wised up. And she’d smile and nod.
Right then, though, she leaned in close to him when she had an excuse so he got a whiff of her and her hair slid against his skin. PJ kissed his cheek and barely resisted rubbing her face across his beard.
Instead she slowly eased back. “See you around.”
She knew he watched her walk away. Probably because his gaze seemed to burn into her skin. Also because several other men in the room watched too. Good. He needed to see that as well.
“Hand me that bowl there, the one with the potatoes.” Pat Barrons pointed at the bowl her son then moved within her reach.
“If you’re not going to tell me what’s making you so grumpy, at least stir the beans.”
He did, his sister wisely avoiding his eye. They’d bust out laughing and their mother wouldn’t be pleased.
“I’m not any more grumpy than usual, you know.”
“Don’t stand in my kitchen and lie to me, boy.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s a woman. Dice those onions. I need two.” She’d set herself up at the counter he and Duke had lowered for her a few years prior. His mom would gather all her supplies and then cook from one central place near the stove.
Not coincidentally, it gave her the perfect perch to keep an eye on – and lord over – everyone in the living room and dining room.
She made him dice onions because he wasn’t just telling her. He’d break eventually; he always did. His baby sister, Courtney, smirked but kept her attention on pouring the cornbread batter into the cast-iron skillet and popping it into the oven to bake.
Pat Barrons had gotten pregnant with Asa when she was just fifteen. His dad had been a few years older but already a seasoned criminal and piece of shit by the time Pat finally called the police on him after he’d hit her.
His paternal grandparents had then swooped in and taken Asa. Pat had spent the next years fighting with Asa’s grandparents and his father – when he was out of prison anyway. She’d been able to win visitation but had to stay on top of them to get it. Sometimes they’d control her behavior with the promise of access to Asa. Finally, when he was seven years old, she’d won full custody. After that, they’d picked up and moved from Dallas to Houston.
Asa hated his father’s family for humiliating Pat that way. She’d been powerless and they’d abused that because they could. They pretended it was charity when it was the worst sort of vanity.
She’d worked at least two jobs the whole time Asa grew up. It was the price for keeping her independence, and he got that. Understood how important it was that she not be beholden to anyone again.
They didn’t have much. It didn’t get any better when she had his younger sister, Lettie, and then Courtney a few years after that. There’d been a man for a few years, Lettie and Courtney’s dad, but he’d up and gone soon enough.
Right around that time Asa sort of went off the rails. His life was a dead end. He’d wind up in jail just like his dad. He wasn’t going to head off to college. He had no future and he acted like it for long enough that his mother had begged him to join the army to do something with his life.
Asa’s mother had never asked him for anything. So when she’d cried, saying she was worried he’d end up dead or an addict, when she’d actually begged him, he’d gone down and enlisted.
His mother didn’t have a lot of education herself, but she was determined her children would grow up into adults worth knowing.
Needless to say, Pat Barrons could be relentless when she wanted to know something and no one was talking.
“You were going to tell us about the woman,” she prodded.
“There’s no woman.”
His mother just stared at him for long moments before turning the chicken she was cooking.
“Okay, so there was. Is. Whatever. It’s not a thing. I can’t even say it’s over because it never got started. Happy?”
“I’m never happy when you think you can give me that attitude.” She gave him a prim look and Courtney snickered.
“I’m sorry.” And he was.
“I know, baby. So tell me about this woman. Did she dump you?”
“No one dumped me. I told you, it’s nothing. A woman who does our custom paint work. I like her, but she’s too young, and we work together. It’s a recipe for disaster. So we’ll be friends.”
Courtney turned and gave him a long, measuring look. “Did you tell her this or did she tell you this?”
